moving day

We hugged her goodbye, and wished her safe travels.  Our collegiate friend is headed home for summer break.  She's spent days, nights, and many meals with us over the past several months.  Sometimes we joke I'm like her mother, encouraging "good choices" and listening with sympathy as she relays the angst of young friendships and freshman classes.  

I prefer to consider myself her big sister.  After all, I'm only 11 years older!  While hers is a different age and season than mine, we have much in common.  I love the fun and youth of our friendship.  I also enjoy the challenge of getting to know her.  She is beautiful, yet humble.  She is quiet, yet engaging.  She is strong, yet yielding.  She is wise, yet learning.  I will miss her, and look forward to the days when she returns to our dinner table and the "pink room" upstairs.

Meanwhile, however, the pink room will not go empty.  We hugged another beloved woman hello, and asked her about her most recent travels.  These two guests, part of our family by commitment and choice, actually passed one another in the hall.  One carried duffle bags and biology notebooks out, while the other carried work suits and luggage in.  

Mr. Kenobi's mother, better known as "Grandma," moved in today.  She needs a place to stay while sorting out where she and Grandpa will decide to live. Grandpa has a job he loves in California, but her job is here in the northwest.  Either one will have to relocate, or they will spend another year (or more) enduring the interstate commute to one another.  When one asks her about a timeline for her life, it's not as simple as a college term.  Only they know how long this will last.

So, today was moving day.  I prepared another meal for five, and processed the transition.  This morning, I was jokingly referred to as "Mom" by a girl who stands eye-level across the kitchen.  Now I'm the daughter in the house, standing eye-to-eye with another generation.  It's time to sort identities. I make the home, and yet am finding my place in the family; I'm a friend, and yet a child.  I love the man, she loves the son.  I parent, but she grandparents.  

Together, we'll share a space and family until the next season begins.